


Hold

by zeldadestry



Category: The OC
Genre: Community: 100_women, F/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-28
Updated: 2010-07-28
Packaged: 2017-10-10 20:21:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/103887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeldadestry/pseuds/zeldadestry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You never got another chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold

**Author's Note:**

> prompt 81, 'white', for 100_women fanfic challenge

You saw him for the first time at one of Chili's parties. You were fifteen and convinced he was the hottest, most beautiful person in the entire world.   
He was sitting by himself and a small round tin filled with white powder rested on the table in front of him. "Can I do a line?" were the first words you ever said to him.  
"It's not coke," he replied, without even looking at you.  
"Dude, if you don't wanna share, whatever, but don't bullshit me."  
He raised his eyes. "Don't bullshit me," he mocked, in a falsetto. "I'm not. It's ketamine, you ditz."   
No one had ever called you that before. You were never a girly girl, and mostly people considered you one of the guys.

 

In Mexico you fought every single night, screamed at him until he screamed back. He never touched you, but he threw bottles, broke furniture, and punched holes in the walls.

 

She was coming out of the Bait Shop, and you ran after her. "Hey, Marissa!" She turned, but when she saw it was you calling her, distrust spread across her face.   
"Yeah?" she said, voice flat.  
"Volchok told me about what happened. I mean, how you helped me, at the party. That was pretty amazing, what you did, because I know I've been an ass to you, and I know those guys can be intimidating."  
She looked at you, face blank, but her hand touched your shoulder for just a moment when she said, "I'm just glad no one got hurt."  
After she walked away, you realized you never said thank you. That was what you'd wanted to do, say thank you and maybe buy her a drink. You never got another chance.

 

When he gets out of prison, one of the first things you do together is go clothes shopping. He can stay with you as long as he likes, for the rest of his life, or yours, but he's got to find a job and help out with money. You can't afford to take care of him.

 

"Are you hungry? Should we go get some dinner?" You talk to him because you hope to get his attention, just for a moment. He doesn't answer, just keeps looking out the window at the ocean. Your place is a dump but it does have amazing views.   
You used to dream of him kissing you, wanting you, even loving you, but it was never like this, like he was a ghost, stripped of the will to live.   
"What happened to you in there?" you whisper, hand at his back.  
"It wasn't prison."   
"Then what?"  
"When we were in Mexico together, I could still pretend it wasn't real. When I came back to California, that was the end, like I killed her twice. Killed her and killed my dream of her."  
"You didn't kill her. It was an accident." The words are hollow, but you hope he will not notice. He has to keep it together. If he throws his life away, then what? How did you come to this place, this moment, where the brave and beautiful princess is dead, the outlaw is broken, and you are the only one with a future, a bright light still visible ahead?

 

You always thought that when this happened he'd be fucking you, dominating you, having what he wanted. You never imagined it would be hanging on to him, providing the only stable hold he could grasp so he wouldn't be drawn down into a vortex.

 

His cheek rests against your chest and his tears wet your skin.


End file.
